


A God's Surrender

by love_a_good_antihero



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Canon Compliant, Completely unnecessary ore motif, Demonic Possession, Dreamons, Introspection, Kinda?? I hope???, Let me know if I should remove the relationship tags because they are Very Brief Mentions, Minecraft IRL, No beta we die like Tommyinnit did for 2.5 seconds, Oh yeah and Dream is a god btw, Possession, implied dnf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:54:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29856999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/love_a_good_antihero/pseuds/love_a_good_antihero
Summary: "Miles away from his restless feet, his partner sleeps, along with the rest of the server. So many fragile minds and bodies; quiet, pliable, sweet. When they all wake up, there will be an immediate heavy feeling, but they’ll shrug it off. The pretty one will find his bed empty, and a server-wide panic will ensue. Dream tries not to think about how his husband will be one of the last to find out."A quick drabble set during the Dreamon Hunter arc, in a DreamSMP fully populated with civilians. Pogtopia is in shutdown, living in fear of the mysterious creatures known as “dreamons'' which have been taking its citizens in the night. Sometimes, the power of Church Prime is enough to save them...Sometimes.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/Floris | Fundy, Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Kudos: 16





	A God's Surrender

**Author's Note:**

> Never really thought I'd write something G-rated, but here we are. I'm not even a Dream apologist but this ficlet kinda made me want to become one.
> 
> Enjoy :)

It is a quiet night on the outskirts of the SMP. It’s always a quiet night here, save for a whistling breeze along cool, lapis waters. You do not go outside at night in Pogtopia, anymore. This is the new creed of the nation.

A person stands barefoot on the soft, emerald moss, silently looking up at the moon. He's liked it up here since the beginning. No furnaces humming. No zealous villagers incessantly shouting out the offers of the day. No clangor of the swords of training teenage mercenaries. He imagines he can feel the whole planet breathing as he squishes his toes into the ground.

His name is Dream.

Miles away from his restless feet, his partner sleeps, along with the rest of the SMP. So many fragile minds and bodies; quiet, pliable, sweet. When they all wake up, there will be an immediate heavy feeling, but they’ll shrug it off. The pretty one will find his bed empty, and a server-wide panic will ensue. Dream tries not to think about how his husband will be one of the last to find out. They will search all morning until they find the note confirming what they’ll have each privately known from the beginning – their golden boy is gone to the night. He realizes now the shorthand scribbling he left behind won't be enough to explain the call, the beckoning of something greater than all of them, more important than keeping the country alive.

He sets off toward the moonlit horizon, in no particular direction.

_Tree, tree, stone, something, tree, tree --_

The server has lost six to the dreamons in the last month. For the first few days, everyone was too preoccupied with rebellion to notice anything was wrong.

 _What Pogtopia doesn't understand,_ Dream thinks, _is that they're not losses_. _They're necessary sacrifices to appease whatever it is I'm running to._

Coal black creatures stalk the stream-laced jungle, and although they are almost as tall as three stallions, they pose no threat. They have their weaknesses, as most things do. Many are relatively passive unless you make the mistake of looking them in the eyes. Even then, they can be easily taken down by an axe crit or a carefully placed water bucket. Dream isn’t worried.

_\-- tree, vine, tree, tree, river --_

Coming upon a small clearing, he suddenly recognizes his surroundings and slows to a jog. In the center lies a cobblestone shrine-- a temple built by previous inhabitants of the server. Dream knows that he must have been alive at the same time as them, but that is not why the structure looks familiar. He’s been here recently, with explorers from Pogtopia. The scouts were so excited when they first discovered the network of tunnels, seemingly running underneath the surface of the entire planet; less so when they found the hordes of withered bodies. Despite extensive testing, they never did figure out what had happened.

 _It’s unfortunate_ , Dream remembers his lover had speculated upon hearing the news, _we might have been allies_. _Traded resources and ideas. How advanced were they? There’s little evidence of technological achievements, or even sentience. Might they have killed us, unthinking, unhesitating? Might they have thought us gods?_

Dream hadn’t replied.

The summoned attempts to resume his previous pace, but the body he inhabits is soft, and it hurts to run now. He should have brought with him potions; he should have thought this through. It’s becoming difficult to breathe. He's almost there, though. He must be.

_\-- movement, tree, tree, stone, tree --_

The call is much stronger now. He can feel the darkness beckoning, demanding more. More sweet, juicy red meat. More crunchy metal brain. More ideas, more devotion, more to eat, consume, feed off of – more.

 _But humans are so small_ , he laments, _and so very pathetic. I don’t understand how they could satisfy the universe’s great need._

It should be taking all of his willpower now not to collapse in a heap and sleep until dawn, but the summoned does not require rest, nor sustenance, nor air to breathe.

 _It must have been hours since I left,_ he thinks. _Is this it? Is this my fate, to just keep running and running and running and_ –

He stops. All of a sudden, skidding, like in one of those early cartoons. There’s someone there, just visible in the dim moonlight. The shadowy figure waves. As he approaches, he recognizes the silhouette. It’s one of the missing people from the Pogtopia.

“You’re alive! Where have you been? Where are the others? What’s going on?”

“Welcome home.” The response answers none of his questions.

“What?”

He watches as the man, as if entranced, slowly reveals a pit in the ground beneath the curved roots of a rotting tree, a large den of some kind.

“Come.”

At a loss, the summoned crawls after him, cautiously at first, but more confidently as the tunnel widens and the call grows overwhelming. Dizzy with purpose, he finally comes upon a great cavern, bigger than any room the explorers have discovered in the mineshafts so far.

“Here we are.”

He's about to ask where exactly “here” is, when he sees it. All glittering eyes, and sleek, pale body. It is beautiful, he thinks, and wants to weep.

“Come here, my child,” it whispers.

It’s as if it is speaking directly into his mind, its voice reverberating around his skull. Its physical form morphs in time to the syllables, impossible for eyes to interpret. Dream hasn’t been anyone’s _child_ in a long, long time. The exhale he lets out disturbs several layers of dust. He approaches, and it embraces him as best a blob can. Suddenly, he understands.

_It’d been so lonely, you see, with all its disciples dead. It had watched the new generation of immigrants fight amongst each other until it could not bear it anymore. And then it called out to us, and slowly, we’ve answered. Maybe I cannot be the one to satisfy its great need, but that does not mean I am purposeless. I must help. I must bring unity to the server._

A masked man with a smile returns to Pogtopia the next day, where he is exorcised in bread and iron, and resumes his duties of war. Dream, however, never comes back.

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't in the fandom yet for the Dreamon Hunters arc, so let me know if I have lore inaccuracies (I'm sure there are at least a few). Also just comments in general are appreciated, whether they are kind or criticism. Love you all.


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